Did He?
by Breesasha
Summary: Kagome has a hazy experience one evening that leaves her head spinning and confused. First person POV. Rated M for lemon, language, and possible rape.


A/N: Sorry I haven't written in a while. I have had a whirlwind of a past 9 months filled with a lot of personal issues that I am still working through. This is rated M for language and sexual content please note that this can be triggering for anyone who has been a victim of sexual abuse. Please be kind, this is a bit of a different writing style than I've done in the past.

Did He?

Time felt like it was moving slow, but then super-fast all at the same time. I could see him moving but it was all a blur and I couldn't stay focused on him for long.

" .Me…" even when he said my name, I heard it long and drawn out, syllable by syllable. I blinked a few times trying to concentrate my eyes, hoping the fuzziness will dissipate. I attempted to turn my head in his direct but it was so taxing that I just lurched forward on the couch. He must have said something else but I didn't hear him. It was like a white nose to me; some sort of low humming. The words were undisguisable. I was distracted by the natural rise and fall of his baritone voice.

He was crouched down beside the couch, staring up at me. His face seemed so close o me. For a second, all I was drawn to was the top of his head; his luscious, long silver hair in a messy man bun and his cute little dog ears at full attention. His amber eyes were glue to me.

"What?" I managed to eek out. I'm not sure why but forming words was coming more and more arduous. It's like my mind and body weren't in sync. He cocked his head to the side.

"Are you ok?" He questioned, concerned I guess. I must have made a sound that he took as confirmation because the next thing I remember, he was gone. I was leaning back on the couch, my head resting on its arm. The house was dead silent. I wanted to stand up from the couch, look around or shout out to see if he was still home but I didn't have the ability to do so. All I could do was gaze from my place on the couch.

I'm not sure how long he was gone but I must have passed out because I was startled awake by a by a loud sound coming from the kitchen. From my vantage point, all I can could see was the edge of the counter but no one was around. Some of the feelings in my legs returned, I stood up shakily, taking hesitant steps towards the noise…

"Are you ok?" I heard again, this time the voice came across muffled, and almost like it was coming from behind me. I peeked open and eye but my environment had changed. I was no longer standing in his living room but I was lying down on m side, one arm folded and tucked under my head, my legs covered by some sort of blanket, on a cold uncovered mattress facing the wall in almost pitch darkness. A warm hand on my thigh; I squinted through the black to see.

I'm not even sure if I responded to the question he posed but I could feel his touch creep u my thigh to the hem of my teeny tiny shorts. I shivered, the action almost repulsing me, it didn't feel good. I'm not even sure if he noticed. I was overcome with waves of sleepiness and dizziness. In the throes of these sensations, I missed something and his palm ended up on my hip along my bare skin that the tank top didn't quite cover.

"Wait" I said in a hushed tone. My throat was unanticipatedly parched and my voice was coming out raspy. Just saying that one word left my out of breath. And he did wait, if only for a second. He angled his face into the crook of my neck. All I could feel was his hot breath on my neck and earlobe. I was dying to swat him away, to tell him to stop touching me.

"What's wrong?" I lost count of him asking me that. Those words replayed in my mind over and over again.

"Just wait" I pleaded.

"What?" He asked again. His hand slid forward off my waist and fell in front of my bell. His hand was just resting against the bed. I let out a silent sign and my body rocked backward a little, just enough to collide with his; I was now aware of how hard he was.

"What?" He tried again. He tucked some of my hair behind my ear and began to nipple on my earlobe. I rocked forward, scooting my butt from the groin but he scooted closer to close the gap between us.

"Mhm" He mumbled, his thumb and index fingers latched onto the button of my shorts, undoing it in one swift motion. As it unzipped, I could feel it move down against me, the small "Z" sound ringing out loudly in the eerie room.

"Inu…" I started but a wave of nausea hit me. I stilled, unsure if I was going to throw up. He must have changed positions between all of that because I glanced up to see him up on his knees and rolling me flat on my back, wedging a knee between my thighs.

"Lift your hips" He murmured. I was dazed, trying to understand the request. He tugged at the cuffs of my bottoms until it started to slide down. My clothes were thrown to the floor, disappearing into a sea of darkness.

His light touch breezed across the outside of my sex, just grazing the "spot". Next thing I remember, I was faced down on the bed, my ass up in the air, his hands pressing the small of my back into an arched position.

He wasn't as gentle as he was before. He was just grunting away, almost animalistically. My entire body was being pushed forward with each thrust. He was going to town on me. His hand alternating between grabbing my hips to pull me back into each thrust and spanking me. My face was mushed into the pillow top mattress, mouth and nose only half exposed. I just lay there, the thrusts getting faster and faster until he just stopped. I felt him kind of pat my butt then his warmth and his weight left the bed. I rolled over on my side until I was flat on my back again, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how this all happened.

I question it but it feels like he took advantage of me…but it wasn't some aggressive dramatic scene you see on T.V or in the movies, not some stranger who fixates on you and follows you home. Not some criminal who rips off your clothes and holds you down in a back alley or behind a dumpster at night. He was a regular guy…he seemed nice, held a decent conversation, almost like a friend.

I'll admit that I went over to his house willingly. I chose to drink until I was intoxicated. But I don't remember choosing to have sex. Not that I remember much at all. IF you have to keep asking me if I'm ok, if you have to help me up the stairs and into your bed, is that me saying yes?

I asked him to wait a few times, hoping to slow him down. I can remember him on me…his grip on my thighs, his body pressed against my back, his hand along my waist. And he did slow down when I said it, but he never stopped. Not when I was barely responsive, never asked if I wanted to, he didn't stop until he came. I don't remember getting up the stairs, I don't remember how I ended up on my stomach, did he use a condom? Did he prop me up? He had to be in charge. I can't recall any memories of me touching him. No foreplay involved. Just him entering me…over and over. I wish I could have said something. I wanted to tell him "no" or "stop" but I froze.

Time lapsed again and I was all alone. I could hear voices downstairs and music blasting. Although I was drowsy, I couldn't fall asleep, not here. I just sat waiting until I felt better. I had my purse in one hand shoes in the other. I was trembling when I got out of his house, trying to quietly shut the door behind me, walking timidly down the stairs to the 1st floor. It took all of my strength to calm my nerves and not run to the car like a raving lunatic at 1 o'clock in the morning. I didn't want to draw attention to myself. When I got to the car, I immediately locked the door, I still couldn't allow myself to relax. I drove through the complex with my headlights off until I was sure I was far enough away, then I sped off.

I could have gotten a DUI, I could have crashed my car into a pole or a person…but I didn't. I drove straight home. My anxiety has been high ever since. Part of me blames him. What type of man has sex with a girl who is so out if it…she's unresponsive? Yes, he was messed up and intoxicated too but he still made the conscious effort to fuck me. Part of me blames myself. I put myself in uncharted territory. I usually never drink and definitely not that much. So I got too worked up and lost control. Lost control of my body, my voice, the situation, of everything. And it got way too out of hand. It went from carefree hanging out to lying in his bed praying I'd feel better so I could leave. All I wanted to go was go home. I felt so uncomfortable where I was, after what had happened, but also of what would happen next. If he came back, would he want more? Would he have his way with me again? But he did not return and none of my fears came true. But yet I still feel the way I do.

Did he rape me?


End file.
